


Lightning Strikes: A Ziam Airport AU

by endoftheziam



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: AU, Airport AU, Airports, Alternate Universe - College/University, Angst, Austin AU, Christmas Eve, Christmas Fluff, College AU, Fluff, Genderbending, M/M, Minor Perrie Edwards/Zayn Malik, Multi, University, Ziam Ficathon, ziam
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-26
Updated: 2017-12-26
Packaged: 2019-02-22 01:58:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,866
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13156767
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/endoftheziam/pseuds/endoftheziam
Summary: In which Zayn and Liam are childhood friends who run into each other while stranded at the airport on Christmas Eve. Liam's a UCLA chemistry major with barely got enough money for food, and Zayn's a poetry major at UT who just found out his boyfriend cheated on him. Can they find a way through heartbreak to each other? Is it Fate, or just a fluke?(ft. Niall as the emotional support you never knew you needed, Louis/Harry as That Couple, lots of kissing, and 'I'll try, but I'll miss you too much, Leeyum!'





	Lightning Strikes: A Ziam Airport AU

Lightning Strikes: A Ziam Airport AU

 

December 24 

Liam was walking towards his gate when he heard it: a deafening, heart-rending crack, like the sky was trying to cleave the roof in two. It shook the entire airport, and even the headphones in his ears did little to drown out the noise.  
Liam watched through the windows as the downpour worsened outside, listening to the rumble of thunder.  
He looked at the screens, his eyes carefully scanning the ones labeled departure, hoping that they wouldn’t--  
But then, as he watched, their green numbers, emblazoned with the cheery ‘on time’ commentary, shifted to red. Red. Red. Red.  
Delayed. Delayed. Delayed.  
Shit.

 

Niall put his hand on Zayn’s shoulder just before he got out of the cab. “Are you sure you’re gonna be okay?”  
Zayn rolled his eyes. “It’s just a little rain. You are such a mom.”  
Niall gripped Zayn’s jacket tighter, preventing him from exiting the car and allowing his right side to get thoroughly wet in the pouring rain. “I’m not talking about the weather. You can stay with me and my family. My mom would love to have you for Christmas.”  
Zayn looked down, shaking his head as a hand clenched around his heart.  
“Come on, man. Don’t do this alone.”  
Zayn bit his lip. “I just need—a break.”  
“So go see your family.”  
“From life.” Zayn finished. “From everything.” He clutched his boarding pass in his hand, thinking about a swanky hotel room, and three days of complete solitude. Watching the snow from his balcony, and looking at the lights with all the nostalgia and sadness clouding his heart. Not having to tamp it down to act polite, or to keep someone from worrying, or because the person who was the cause of all of that pain thought he was insane for feeling it.  
“I need to be alone. It’s the only way I can—” feel. _The only way I don’t feel like all my emotions are intrusive and unwelcome, like every word I say is the wrong thing.( _  
Niall rubbed soothing circles on his back. “At least promise me you’ll talk to someone. A waiter. A bellhop. A cute boy at the gym.”  
Zayn just looked at him, and he could see the sympathy widen Niall’s blue eyes, the way they cast a shadow on his otherwise cheery features. “I’ll—try.” He managed  
But they both knew he didn’t mean it.  
“Be safe.” Niall said finally, letting go of Zayn’s jacket. “Text me when you get there.”  
Zayn nodded, stepping out of the car into the rain, not even bothering to look as Niall drove off.  
He clutched his backpack in his hand and hurried toward the security stations, his eyes already scanning the screens overhead for his gate number.  
He found the gate, 32A, just as a loud clap of thunder shook the entire airport. Zayn could feel it in his chest, like the bass at a concert. It changed the beat of his heart. The shudders knocked him off balance, and he lost his place on the prompter.  
Then, as the other patrons around him groaned, several immediately breaking off from the line and beelining toward a harried American Airlines employee, Zayn knew something was terribly wrong.  
Delayed. Delayed. Delayed.__

____

 

____

Liam didn’t have enough money for a pizza.  
He had exactly seven dollars left, which would cover coffee at Starbucks. Or a bag of chips in the ridiculously overpriced newsstand.  
Liam had been counting on getting home tonight, on a stocked pantry and a stomach full of beans and rice, and finally loosening the knot in his stomach that had been there since yesterday, when he’d scrambled the last of his eggs.  
Liam’s head ached. He grabbed an empty water bottle out of his backpack and refilled it at the water fountain, then walked over to the Starbucks. The caffeine would help with his hunger, at least.  
Liam fingered his wallet, still tucked in his front pocket. He could feel the numbers in his account balance hovering around him, and it felt like the vendors could smell it on him. Poor.  
Liam checked his phone. His mother had texted: _Hey. Sorry about ur flight. Rain check? (lol) _  
Liam shook his head, smiling. Leave it to his mom to make him laugh in a crisis.  
And crisis, it was. The help desk person from American had told him that it would be a few hours at least before they deemed it safe to fly. And judging by the radar, even longer than that.  
“You’re probably here for the night,” the woman had said, offering him a sympathetic glance, before moving on to the next irate passenger.  
Liam placed his order at Starbucks, mentally calculating the price so that he wouldn’t go over. He could smell the pastries cooking in the oven, and it made his mouth water. His head spun.  
The thunder rumbled overhead.__

______ _ _

 

______ _ _

Zayn put his bag down against one of the windows and sat, his back to the rain that was still sweeping across the tarmac. They were saying it might flood. There was absolutely no way he’d be in New York before tomorrow morning. Later, if it snowed.  
Zayn wished he could be excited, could be craning his neck like some of the children were, desperate to catch the moment the downpour might turn into a snowflake, saying things like ‘miracle’ without any trace of irony, but he couldn’t. Not anymore.  
Zayn put his headphones in his ears and pressed play on the video from his Snapchat. The voice resounded in his ears, “Get that away! I’m working—” The boy’s voice broke into laughter.  
Zayn could hear himself laughing in the background, but that’s not what had him replaying the video. It was the caress in the other boy’s voice, the intimacy that shaded even the most common phrase in technicolor.  
That had been the moment Zayn had known he’d truly been in love with Perry. When he’d said something innocuous, when he could hear ‘I love you’ in the simplest of phrases.  
Zayn’s stomach ached, and he paused the video, just as Perry leaned in to kiss him, his blonde hair taking up the entire camera.  
Zayn knew he should delete the video, but he couldn’t bring himself to. Just like he couldn’t bring himself to watch the rain, or to want to do anything other than not be next to anyone for a while.  
Zayn was tired of feeling so much for someone who could throw it all away in an instant.  
He sighed, exiting Snapchat and pulling up Instagram, only to have his phone flicker and turn black.  
He tapped it anxiously, but the screen remained blank.  
Panicked now, Zayn held down the menu and lock buttons, and the Apple logo reappeared on the screen. He sighed in relief, only to feel another jolt of anxiety as the battery indicator came on.  
_No. _  
Zayn pulled his backpack, rummaging desperately through the contents. It only took a few moments to confirm what he’d suspected  
_I forgot my phone charger. _  
In the flurry of preparations, the rush and spur-of-the-moment decision, Zayn had hardly packed anything. He’d assumed it would be a relatively quick flight.  
Sighing, Zayn stood up, pulling his backpack with him. Perhaps someone in the airport sold chargers.____

_________ _ _ _ _ _

 

_________ _ _ _ _ _

 

_________ _ _ _ _ _

“What do you mean, you’re out of chargers?” Liam heard the voice over his headphones, which were doing little to drown out the noise from his stomach anyway. He pulled them out, hoping for a distraction, as the boy’s voice rose toward the edge of hysteria. “I have to charge my phone!”  
The clerk was saying something about stock and the unexpected rush due to the storm, and the boy’s voice was getting more and more broken. “But I just—I need to use my phone.”  
Something about that voice was familiar.  
Liam put down his empty drink and started towards the boy, trying to place the voice. From the back, he looked like any wealthy, whiny customer. His leather jacket had rain droplets on it, and it looked as though the gel in his jet black hair must have held off most of the rain.  
That, or his hair was just that beautiful. And expensive.  
Liam didn’t really have an eye for clothing, but he knew what poor quality looked like. And this guy was definitely loaded.  
Which did even less to explain why Liam had abandoned his strategic place at the Starbucks counter (right next to a place where he could charge his laptop) to talk to him.  
He couldn’t help it. Something in that voice tugged at him, like a half-remembered song.  
Liam wandered over to the edge of the sales’ counter, ducking around a harried-looking woman craning her neck for her coffee, to look at the boy’s face.  
_“Zayn?” ___

___________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

 

___________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

At first, Zayn did not turn around at the sound of his name. He figured it was someone calling someone else, or just a trick of the hubbub surrounding him.  
No one who knew him would be here. He had been counting on that.  
“Zayn?”  
Finally, Zayn turned around, as the salesperson let out a sigh of relief behind him.  
The person calling his name was about his age, in a Dodgers snapback and a white hoodie with black sweatpants. His face was covered by a stubble of beard, and he looked thinner and much older than he’d been the last time Zayn had seen him, but those eyes were the same. Those soulful, deep brown puppy dog eyes. The kind of eyes that made you think he liked you better than other people.  
“Liam?”  
The boy’s face broke into a grin so wide, his eyes crinkled at the corners. It was definitely Liam.  
_Liam Payne, _Zayn thought. _What are the odds? _____

______________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

 

______________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Liam had not thought this through.  
He shouldn’t have said anything. He should have just let Zayn argue with the clerk, walk away, and move on with his life.  
He was clearly lightheaded from hunger, and it was starting to affect his decision making.  
Because even though Liam hadn’t seen Zayn since he was twelve, even though he was now faced with interacting with someone who was not only beautiful, but also had no idea what it was like not to be able to afford things, Liam had felt pulled toward Zayn. Like a hook behind his chest. Like he’d been looking for him this whole time.  
Zayn walked over, his eyes lighting up with recognition, and now Liam was certain. He’d made a huge mistake.  
But he couldn’t keep the answering smile off his face.  
He could feel it in his chest, like the feeling you get right before you cry, but bigger. Like this was the beginning of something amazing.  
Liam didn’t have time for amazing. He was just trying to survive today.

______________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

 

______________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Zayn could see something fall back in Liam’s eyes as he got closer, but that smile remained in place.  
That smile.  
Liam had worn a smile just like that when they’d met, at ten, on the playground outside their elementary school.  
Liam hadn’t been as thin or as chiseled then. He was chubby, all thick arms and fluffy cheeks and a tuft of dark hair on his head. When he’d looked at Zayn, his eyes had brightened just the way they did then, light and full, crinkling around his nose and eyes.  
Zayn had been sitting on the edge of the playground, stacking rocks in battle formations. He’d been watching Star Wars a lot since he’d moved to Austin—it was easier than getting to know people again. Zayn had long since reached the point where the effort it took to make friends was too great, especially when you were only going to move away in a year or two anyway.  
But Liam hadn’t known any of that. He’d just walked over and asked Zayn to play Star Wars. Like it was easy. Like it hadn’t occurred to him to act differently.  
It was the first time Zayn had thought that going to a new place didn’t have to be so scary.

______________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

 

______________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

“I have an extra phone charger,” Liam blurted, before he could marshal up anything more intelligent, or appropriate, to say. “Here.” He pulled his backpack out in front of him and rummaged through it before pulling out the long, white cord.  
Liam ducked his head over the contents and stepped back, hoping that Zayn wouldn’t see the poor state of his bag’s contents. Dirty laundry and old gum wrappers, a couple of well-worn paperbacks and a laptop that looked like it had been top of the line ten years ago.  
Liam had meant to clean it out before he left, but then he’d been waiting for a call from his mom, and trying not to think about pizza, and it had all felt like too much effort.  
But Zayn didn’t seem to notice Liam’s discomfort. “Thank you so much,” he said, as Liam handed him the charger. “You saved my life.”  
The both blushed at that. For a moment, their palms touched, and something jolted through Liam, making him snatch his hand away.  
“Uh—sorry.” Liam said hastily, looking down and hoping desperately he wasn’t as red as he felt. “Must be static electricity. The air’s really dry in here.”  
But Zayn didn’t seem to have heard. He was already scanning the crowd, the array of signs located all over the airport. “Let’s get dinner while I charge this thing.”  
Liam’s chest tightened. “D-dinner—” he stuttered. “I, uh—I—I’m not hungry.” As if in protest, his stomach grumbled, and his mouth watered. Even the thought of food was making him hungry, and slightly nauseous. Liam tried to smile. “What about we just hang out here and talk?”  
Zayn tipped his head to the side, looking a little taken aback. “Okay.” He said slowly. “Where?”  
“Just right—” Liam turned back to his original spot, but a large woman, who was clearly engaged in an emotional phone call, had taken it. “Here.” He finished lamely.  
“Don’t worry about it,” Zayn said. “I have an idea.” He grabbed Liam’s sleeve and tugged him away from the Starbucks, toward the large directory display near the end of their section of the airport.  
Liam tried to protest, but Zayn walked with too much purpose. Everyone just melted away in front of him, and he didn’t look to either side, just straight ahead.  
Liam wondered if his mother was still in the military. If Zayn was, too. If he had met someone who made him walk with that much confidence, when Liam had to practically drag him into games with the other kids when they’d met.

______________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

 

______________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Zayn wasn’t sure where this newfound confidence was coming from. Ten minutes ago, he’d been distraught over his inability to look at old pictures of himself and Perry, devastated by the fact that his phone hadn’t had a charger. It was like getting a limb chopped off.  
But the Liam had smiled at him. And when their hands touched—it was the biggest cliché to exist in the history of romance, but Zayn couldn’t help playing it over and over again in his mind. Holy palm to palmer’s kiss.  
All he knew was that he couldn’t let Liam get away from him. Not that quickly.  
There was something about Liam’s eyes, the more Zayn had looked at them. An exhaustion that mirrored his own, like they’d both been flattened by whatever had happened in their lives.  
Zayn pulled Liam along until they reached the doors to the First Class Lounge.  
“Um, Zayn?” Liam said tentatively.  
“Shhh.”  
“Zayn, I’m not—I can’t—”  
“It’s fine. You just have to get a guest pass.”  
“I—I—I can’t.”  
Zayn waved at the concierge and let go of Liam’s arm to find his ID. “Please tell me they’re serving food.” Zayn said, rummaging through his bag. “I’m starving.”  
The concierge frowned. “Where did your friend go?”  
“What?” Zayn whirled, but it was too late. Liam was gone.  
Zayn twisted the charger cord around in his hands.

______________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

 

______________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Liam ducked into the first bathroom he saw, breathing hard. He looked at his reflection in the mirror, clutching the sink to avoid a sudden dizzy spell. “This is fine.” He said to himself. “You’re fine.” The room slowly righted itself.  
“One of those days, I guess,” said a voice from the stall behind him.  
Liam jumped. “Um--hello?”  
There was the sound of flushing, and a boy around his age emerged from the stall. He bent to watch his hands after giving Liam a nod in the mirror, seemingly unbothered by the circumstances.  
“Don’t worry about it.” The boy said as he scrubbed his hands. He had a fringe of dark hair that swept into his blue eyes whenever he leaned forward.  
When he looked up at Liam, there was a mischievous gleam to his expression. With his stature and build, Liam couldn’t help but think elf, then wondered if he was being derogatory.  
“I met my boyfriend in the bathroom.” The boy said, displaying the writing on his right arm, which read, ‘oops!’ in what looked like the boy’s own handwriting. “He splashed me accidentally.”  
Liam let out a brief laugh, then immediately slapped his hand over his mouth. He didn’t want this boy to think he was mocking him.  
But the boy seemed unfazed. “I know. Not exactly romantic comedy material, but we make it work. I’m Louis.” He held out his hand, and Liam shook it. “Are you gonna tell me why you’re giving yourself a pep talk in the mirror?”  
Normally, Liam wouldn’t talk about his personal problems to anyone, much less a stranger he met in a public bathroom, but something about his boy, in spite of his impish appearance, made him seem like he was someone to be trusted.  
Or maybe it was just that he was a stranger, on Christmas Eve, and the allure of never seeing him again was too great.  
Telling strangers your secrets wasn’t nearly as terrifying as telling someone you saw every day.  
“Well, there’s...this guy.” Liam admitted.  
The boy smirked. “There always is.” 

______________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

 

______________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Zayn leaned back in the chair next to the lounge, passing a hand over his eyes. He had meant to go inside and lie down, but Liam running away had thrown him off. He didn’t want to be out of eyesight when he came back. If he came back.  
Of course, Zayn knew this was ridiculous. It was like holding base in tag, like staying within the perimeter during Capture the Flag. He wasn’t a kid anymore, and neither was Liam.  
But Zayn couldn’t help it. He wanted Liam to know that it was okay. That he was okay. The way Liam had run off like that--it felt like something more than the two of them. It felt like something Zayn might need to stay for.  
Maybe, like Zayn, Liam just needed someone who would stay.  
At the very least, he needed to return Liam’s charging cord.  
So he sat there, just down the hallway from the lounge, where Liam couldn’t miss him. He had plugged his phone in, but it was taking a while to charge, and he didn’t want to strain the battery.  
He couldn’t stop thinking about what it meant, that he and Liam had run into each other after all this time. Whether it meant anything.  
Because of course Liam didn’t know.  
Zayn had moved away a couple of years after that first day on the playground, and he wouldn’t have told Liam if he’d stayed anyway.  
He was twelve when he’d left, just starting to realize that he wanted to be with Liam too often. Just starting to realize he didn’t feel any of the things most of the other boys felt about girls.  
He’d been noticing Liam, mostly. The way he had started to thin out. The way he looked at you when you were talking, really looked at you, like you were the most important person in the world.  
The threadbare places on his clothing, and the way he never seemed to have to pay for his lunch. How he always refused invitations to parties at lazer tag arenas or bowling alleys, but always showed up when people invited him to their houses.  
Zayn had noticed everything about Liam then.  
And, just when he’d started to realize what that noticing meant, they’d moved away.  
Zayn’s phone beeped, and he looked down to find that it had been charged enough to restart. He typed in the passcode and checked his messages, not sure what he was hoping for, still hoping anyway.  
No messages.  
And even though Zayn hated himself for doing it, he started to read his texts with Perry. And he was shocked, all over again, about how they didn’t match up with reality. How he had never seen that implosion coming.  
Before he could go too far into their history (he’d saved every message, phone storage data be damned) his phone rang.  
“Mom?”  
“Come home.”  
“I told you. Lightning hit the airport.”  
“Come home, Zayn. You need to be around family.”  
“I’m fine. I just need to be by myself and write for a while.”  
“Zayn, sweetie. I read your blog.”  
Zayn leaned forward, so that he was staring at his feet. “You know about--”  
He could hear his mother’s smile through the phone. “Waliyha told me.”  
Before Zayn could do more than sputter, his mom interrupted. “Don’t be alone at this time of year.”  
“Who cares?” Zayn said bitterly. “We don’t even celebrate Christmas.” And it fits. Being alone while everyone else is together.  
While they’re together.  
“Come home. Please.”  
Zayn sighed. “I’ll think about it. Okay? I just--I need to be by myself for a while.” The words sounded even more pathetic now.  
His mother started to say something else, but Zayn didn’t hear it. He was too busy staring at the boy with long, curly hair that was sauntering toward him, seemingly oblivious to the stares of passersby.  
The boy wore an outfit that would have been ridiculous on anyone else. A bright pink striped shirt, tight jeans, and sparkly ankle boots. A hat that was somewhere between farmer and fedora. A ring on every finger. Tattoos walking up and down his skin.  
It couldn’t be—"Harry?”  
The boy’s eyes met Zayn’s, and lit up. “Zayn?” He sprinted forward, and Zayn, after muttering a hasty goodbye to his mother, got to his feet and wrapped Harry in a hug.  
Harry was still so much taller than him. “What are you doing here?”  
“Flying home, same as you, I’m guessing.” Harry said.  
“You go to UT?”  
“Nah, there was a music festival we wanted to hit up.” Harry said, tapping his guitar case.  
Zayn raised an eyebrow. “We? So you and Louis are--”  
Harry held up his ring finger, indicating a simple silver band, remarkably less gaudy than the jewels adorning the rest of his fingers.  
“You got married?” Zayn squeaked. “When? Why didn’t you invite me?”  
“It was all sort of last minute.” Harry admitted. “We were very drunk.”  
Zayn narrowed his eyes. “Are you happy?”  
Harry grinned, and Zayn could tell he meant it. He still had that same moony glow on his face, like he was the main character in a romance movie. “Yeah. But I’m definitely not looking forward to facing my mom.”  
Zayn laughed. “Oh my God. She’s gonna kill you.”  
Harry nodded solemnly. “I’m using Gemma as a human shield. She promised to be there when we tell her.”  
“Well, congratulations, I guess.” Zayn said.  
“I guess you could say it was the best drunken mistake I’ve ever made.” Harry said.  
Zayn looked around. “Where is he now?”  
Harry shrugged. “He ran to the bathroom for a second. Actually.” He pulled a cellphone out of his impossibly tight jeans. “He should be back by now.” He typed out a text, then sat down in the chair next to Zayn. “So, what’s going on with you? What are your Christmas plans? I mean, I know you don’t celebrate Christmas, but--”  
“I’m going to New York.” Zayn said.  
Harry raised his eyebrows. “New York?”  
“Yeah. I have things to do.” Zayn said, trying to think of a convincing lie. If Harry knew he was planning on being alone, he would probably kidnap him and drag him into whatever he and Louis were doing.  
Being allergic to solitude himself, Harry couldn’t understand why someone would want to spend any time alone.  
Worse, Harry was completely oblivious as to how truly nauseating it could be to be around him and Louis for an extended period of time. They had never seemed to graduate out of the honeymoon phase.  
Zayn was happy for his friends, but the last thing he needed was to be third-wheeled over Christmas.  
“Who are you seeing?” Harry asked.  
“Just some friends.” Zayn shrugged, trying to seem as nonchalant as possible, like _heartbroken? Me? Nah. _  
“Are you still with Per--” Harry began, then cut off, looking over Zayn’s shoulder. By the way his entire expression lit up, Zayn could tell who was there. Harry got to his feet and dashed away, and Zayn looked around just in time to see him crash into Louis’ arms.  
Louis looked the same as he always had—shorter than he wanted to be, wearing a t-shirt and jeans with a day-old scruff. He was smiling as he held Harry, eyes closed.  
Zayn remembered the first time he’d seen Louis and Harry together. He’d never seen Louis look like that--unreservedly happy--with anyone else. You could tell Louis trusted Harry completely, let himself be someone he couldn’t be with anyone else.  
Zayn was happy for his friends, but a pang went through his heart at the sight of them. It made him think of Perry, of his blue eyes and blonde hair that was almost white. Of Christmases with his enormous family, and football in the front yard, and sharing clothes so often, it was impossible to tell whose was whose. Tangled limbs in front of a roaring fireplace.  
Of text messages that never went answered, and a yawning pit in his stomach that told him what his other friends confirmed a month later. Of crying on the phone, not understanding how he didn’t notice all that distance yawning between them.  
Wondering if any of it had been real.  
And suddenly, Zayn just wanted to be alone again.  
Zayn was so caught up in Harry and Louis’ reunion, and his own feelings, that he didn’t notice the person who was standing awkwardly behind them, hands stuffed in his pockets, for almost a full minute.  
Finally, Zayn felt him staring, and looked up. “Liam.” He said softly, too quietly for Liam to hear.  
And as Liam smiled tentatively back, something in Zayn’s heart that had turned cold since he’d confronted Perry, since he’d booked his plane ticket, started to warm.__

________________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

 

________________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Liam manuevered his way around the couple and sat beside Zayn, trying to remember the pep talk Louis had given him, and trying very hard not to run away from nervousness.  
Zayn was looking at him with a curious expression in his eyes, one hand on his chin. Like he was trying to appraise who exactly Liam was.  
Before Liam could explain, or hope to find a spark of the confidence that Louis had instilled in him, but which had come crashing down again at the sight of Zayn, Zayn reached into his pocket and pulled out a long, white cord.  
He held it out to Liam, not bothering to get up from his seat. “Your charger.” Zayn said.  
“Don’t worry about it,” Liam said automatically, but his fingers closed around the wire. It was the last of his chargers, and he’d be worse off than Zayn if he lost it.  
The balance of his bank account flashed behind his eyes again. $2.43. Zayn, Louis, and Harry clearly didn’t understand anything about $2.43. They probably didn’t even check their accounts when they spent money, secure in the certainty of their wealth. They probably hadn’t even thought about it.  
Liam felt himself shrinking again, more and more convinced that this whole day, running into Zayn, was less like Fate and more like the universe mocking him  
_Look what you can never have. _  
“Come on, then.” Louis said, sounding a little punch-drunk from his and Harry’s thoroughly nonverbal hello.  
And before Liam could protest, Louis grabbed his hand and tugged him through the gates, holding his phone up to the concierge as he did so.  
“Louis, I haven’t got--”  
“The power of the Internet, bro. I’ve got you.”  
Liam felt the charity like a knife in his side. “But I--”  
He stopped.  
Liam knew he shouldn’t be staring, but it was hard not to. He been watching Zayn as they’d walked in, and Zayn had flung himself on one of the plush couches, reaching up to the ceiling in a stretch. A strip of skin, a little lighter than the rest of him, became visible as he did so.  
Liam was finding it hard to breathe. He swallowed.  
Louis looked around at the object of Liam’s gaze, and smirked. “That’s what I thought.” Louis said. “Now go get it.”  
He pushed him, then wandered away toward Harry, who had sat on the couch opposite Zayn.  
As though they did this thing a thousand times, Louis sat behind Harry and pulled him into his chest.  
Liam smiled at the sight, trying to ignore the pang that went through him. Louis and Harry had found each other so easily, so effortlessly.  
Why did even staying alive have to be so hard for him?  
Why was everything so impossible?  
Still, he couldn’t stop thinking about that strip of skin. The trail of dark hair leading downward.  
The way he’d felt when he’d seen Zayn, anxious with anticipation. Like someone was airing up a balloon inside his stomach…  
The way Zayn was looking at him now, like he held everything in his hands.  
Maybe he could hold everything in his hands, for just this one night. Christmas Eve. Where the entire world held its breath, and everything was in between. Where even the smallest of coincidences felt bigger than it ever should.  
Liam couldn’t walk away.  
He sat down next to Zayn, who didn’t waste any preamble. “Why did you run?”  
Liam tried to skate his way around the truth. “Uh--bathroom emergency. Didn’t want to tell y--”  
“Bullshit.” Zayn interrupted, before he could finish his half-assed excuse.  
“Zayn--” Liam said, loving the way the name rolled around in his mouth, even under these circumstances.  
“Look, I don’t want--” Zayn took a breath. “If you’re not interested, you can leave. You have your charger back, and it was nice running into you, but I don’t--”  
“I’m broke!” Liam said, so loudly that a couple at the buffet table stared.  
‘Oh my God.” Liam put his head in his hands, wishing he could just disappear and arrive somewhere else.  
Hopefully somewhere next to the buffet. Even though he’d probably just blown it with Zayn, not to mention security, he stood up, walking rapidly to the table. At the very least, he’d get kicked out of here with some food.  
To his surprise, Zayn followed, not taking anything, just watching silently as Liam piled chicken and vegetables on his plate.  
Liam was struck again by how much he didn’t belong here. The fact that there was so much food, and it was just out here, where you could take as much as you wanted. And no one here had any idea...  
“What do you mean, you’re broke?” Zayn asked, but Liam wasn’t listening. He’d just shoved an entire roll into his mouth, and he thought he might cry. Like, literally cry, at the taste of the bread.  
Zayn seemed to think so, too. He grabbed Liam by the elbow and steered him towards their seat.  
Wasting no time, Liam bit into a fried chicken leg. He knew he was being rude, but he couldn’t bring himself to care.  
Zayn just sat next him, waiting patiently. Waving away the concierges who approached, concerned at the impolite way Liam was consuming his food.  
When Liam had eaten as much as he could without feeling sick, he took a sip of water. Zayn took the opportunity to lean in closer. “What’s going on, Liam?” He said softly. “What has happened to you?”  
The sheer care in that statement was enough to make all of Liam’s conceptions about the other boy, and his entitled company, shatter. Worse, as soon as Zayn said his name, Liam could feel it. The caress, as if he spoke to a lover.  
As if Liam was someone he cared about.  
Liam took a deep breath. “I haven’t really eaten in a few days.” He said. “I ran out of money from my job because of plane tickets, and my mom--” he stopped. “She has enough going on right now.”  
“You haven’t eaten?” Zayn said, but Liam interrupted him. It had been days since he’d really spoken to anyone, and that, combined with the high of having finally eaten, was making words rush out of him in a torrent. “We’ve been having a hard time. I didn’t think it was right to ask for money, and Mom—she can’t afford it even if she says she can.”  
Zayn covered Liam’s hand with his own, and Liam squeezed it before continuing. “So I couldn’t afford to come in here with you, only Louis—” He stopped, because Zayn was leaning in, so close, impossibly close.  
And there was a lot Liam wanted to say, but none of it mattered in that moment. __

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Zayn hadn’t meant to kiss Liam, right in the middle of his tragic backstory. Right when he was telling Zayn something he’d probably never told anyone before.  
He hadn’t meant to interrupt that, or to belittle it.  
But he’d been sitting there, looking so gray and defeated. So impossibly sad. Like he knew exactly how Zayn would react. How anyone else he’d told this story had reacted.  
And there was that dribble of barbeque sauce in his chin…  
The dimple in his lip, all the more alluring in a pout.  
And as Liam’s lips responded, capturing Zayn’s back, pushing back, like talking but without words, Zayn got the feeling that neither of them did this nearly enough. That they wouldn’t be likely to do this again.  
For it was Christmas Eve, and the world was on pause, but it would resume tomorrow.  
It would resume, and it would carry Zayn away from Liam, and the scratch of his beard, and the taste of chicken and sauce on his lips. And the way Liam kissed, like he was sinking. Like they were both falling, and they were the only thing holding each other up.  
Liam had looked so vulnerable, sitting there. So lost.  
Zayn just wanted to make him feel like he wasn’t alone. Not just to sit next to him and listen, but the be there. To tell him with all the things words couldn’t convey.  
They kissed and kissed, and no one came to stop them. No one seemed to even notice.  
It was like the rest of the world was outside, and Zayn and Liam were in their own bubble, cordoned off from it all.  
A shining, golden moment of happiness in the midst of a thunderstorm.  
And that was the second time lightning struck. 

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“Holy shit.” Zayn said later when they were lying on their backs, ensconced in a fort of pillows and blankets, made by pulling a couple of adjacent couches together and draping what blankets they could find between them.  
Most of the others had long since disappeared into hotels, or, in the case of Harry and Louis, a honeymoon suite, but Liam and Zayn had stayed here. Neither of them said why, but it felt safer here. Like nothing about the world could complicate anything in the limbo of the airport. Like purgatory, Zayn thought. The kind of purgatory where nothing gets decided. Where Heaven and Hell are someone else’s problem  
Zayn wondered what Liam was thinking, lying on his back next to him, trying to get his breath back. Liam laughed, and looked at Zayn, up and down, taking his time. “Holy shit.” Liam agreed.  
Zayn wondered if he was disappointed, that they hadn’t taken it further than kissing. It wasn’t like he hadn’t wanted to—even now, he was so hard, he thought he might explode, and Liam was, too. He could see it, if he bothered to look down. He’d been feeling it since they’d started kissing, and Zayn had climbed on top of him, sinking them both into the couch.  
Liam had broken away to start building their fort, and it was obvious where it was supposed to be going. The room was already emptying, and Zayn and Liam were clearly going to have the lounge to themselves.  
When they’d crashed together beneath the relative privacy of the pillows and blankets, sex was the natural place it would lead. Zayn had let Liam take off his shirt, shivering at the touch of Liam’s fingers against his skin.  
But when Liam had moved to Zayn’s belt, Zayn had pulled away.  
Liam hadn’t seemed to mind. He’d just moved in, kissing Zayn over and over again, like he could never get enough.  
Zayn had nearly ripped Liam’s sweatshirt, trying to pull it off. Once he’d seen Liam’s six pack, he’d been hard-pressed to remember why he wasn’t already naked.  
But this time yesterday, Zayn had been talking on the phone to Perry. Had been listening to his boyfriend of four years tell him that he wasn’t enough, that he’d never been enough, that from day one, Perry had always needed someone else.  
And no matter how wonderful Liam was, those wounds didn’t heal instantaneously.  
So Zayn had kept it from going further.  
“I _do _want to have sex with you.” Zayn blurted.  
Liam burst out laughing.  
“I do—you know that, right? You know I’m not—” Zayn wanted Liam to understand. He didn’t want Liam to think that this—whatever this was—wasn’t affecting him.  
Liam put a hand on Zayn’s shoulder, letting it rise and fall with Zayn’s breath. “It’s fine.” Liam said.  
“It’s just that I got—um—cheated on.” Zayn admitted. Saying the words felt different in his mouth than they had before. Less bitter, somehow. Less like he was betraying everything he and Perry had built over the last four years. Less like the ground had been snatched from underneath him.  
“Zayn,” Liam said softly, the same way Zayn had said his name, earlier. Like it tasted better in his mouth.  
“He—uh—slept with other people. For years.” Zayn said. “So I’m just—I’m not—” he ran a hand through his hair.  
Liam reached up and caught it, pulled it into his chest and kissed it. “You do not deserve someone like that. Ever.”  
And even though Zayn had been telling himself that for days, even though Niall had given him a ten minute ‘You Are the Prize ‘speech on the way to the airport, something about the way Liam said it resonated like nothing else had.  
Liam leaned further back, pulling Zayn in so that he was resting on his chest. “Something’s happening here, isn’t it?” Liam said.  
And Zayn, knowing how corny it was, couldn’t help but say it. “Lightning.”  
Liam laughed, the rumble from his chest shaking Zayn’s entire body. __

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“I feel like I don’t know anything about you,” Liam said.  
He could hear Zayn’s smile in his voice. “You seem to have a pretty good idea.”  
Liam tried not to jolt forward too much at that. The fact that he wasn’t going to sleep with Zayn, like really sleep with him, after kissing like that, was agonizing.  
Not that Liam was trying to just have sex with Zayn. But sex with Zayn, if that kiss was anything to go by, would be meteoric. Fucking astronomical.  
“I don’t even know where you’re going,” Liam said, trying to distract himself.  
“I was planning on hanging out in one of my dad’s penthouses in New York. Disappearing for a few weeks.”  
Liam tried not to freak out at the word ‘penthouse’. Like you’ll ever really end up with someone who uses the word ‘penthouse’ in everyday conversation, that mocking voice in his head said. Like you even matter.  
But I was here, all those years ago, he argued.  
I’m here now.  
There’s got to be some kind of Fate in a lightning strike.  
“What about your family?” Liam said, hoping he wasn’t overstepping.  
But Zayn was nodding his head against his chest. “It’s just hard, to be around family after what happened. Perry and I used to talk about getting married. My sisters loved him. My parents loved him. There’s nowhere he hasn’t been.”  
Liam thought for a long moment. “But you need them now. You can’t let—” he took a breath. “You can’t let Perry take away the things that made you happy. Your family and home. You can’t let him take that.”  
“What if it’s too late?”  
Liam pressed his lips to Zayn’s neck in answer, loving the way Zayn arched his back into him. “I know you,” Liam said softly. “I don’t know how to explain it, but I know you. I think I’ve been waiting for you.”  
Zayn turned around and placed a hand on Liam’s cheek. “I think I know you, too.” Zayn said. “From the moment I saw you, it felt big. Life-changing.”  
Liam could feel his chest tightening. It was like something was falling apart and coming together inside of him.  
“Where are you going tomorrow?” Zayn whispered, just before Liam kissed him.  
“L.A.” Liam whispered, just before his lips met Zayn’s. Like a benediction. Like the cliffhanger before the chapter that ends it all.  
They both knew what L.A. meant.

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December 25

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The next morning, Liam and Zayn wake to find that their flights will leave at seven. Liam for L.A. Zayn for New York.  
They do not exchange phone numbers, or talk about staying in touch. Liam goes to UCLA. Zayn is at UT. The fact that they both ended up at the Austin airport was a fluke.  
Neither of them want to go through the slow, burning pain of a long-distance relationship.  
They kiss goodbye for the last time in front of Zayn’s gate, which is boarding first. Zayn doesn’t tell Liam, but he’s already sent a text to his family to meet him at the penthouse.  
They whisper to each other until there is no time left.  
“Have a fun flight home, Zayn.”  
“I’ll try, but I’ll miss you too much, Liam.”  
Zayn doesn’t look back as he scans his boarding pass. Doesn’t offer a last glance as he walks down the long hallway to the plane. He’s afraid it will ruin it. He’s afraid the pressure of the future and the inevitable goodbye of long distance will be worse than enchanting ephemerality. Maybe the best thing is to stay in limbo. To stay on Christmas Eve.  
Zayn spends the rest of break with his family, as they help him put his heart back together. He writes poetry on his blog, and most of it is sad, but some of it has light gleaming at the edges, like cut up paper pressed against a window, creating dappled patterns against everything else.  
Those poems are, directly or indirectly, about Liam.

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Liam goes home to L.A. His seat is somehow bumped to first class, and he sleeps the most restful sleep he’s had in months. The stewardess presses a meal on him when he leaves, and he falls into his mother’s arms with a full stomach, and leftovers for Christmas dinner.  
Liam spends all of break working at a grocery store and looking up theories of time travel and quantum physics  
He keeps coming back to entropy.  
Entropy—the theory of disorder. The idea that everything about the universe is yearning to come apart. That order is the exception, and chaos the rule.  
He thinks about how he and Zayn were brought together only to be torn apart again. He thinks about the universe being sustained by what comes together as much as what pulls it apart.  
He looks Zayn up a couple of times, on Facebook and Instagram, but he can’t bear to send a message  
It feels like Zayn was a dream he had. A feverish, hunger-ridden ascent into oblivious paradise.  
Liam doesn’t want to ruin it by bringing it down to Earth.  
And there is entropy to consider.  
How dare he disturb the universe?

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After a week, Zayn’s mother asks him why he finally decided to be with his family, but Zayn can’t quite explain. “I want you all to stay part of me.” He says, which is an answer but not one. Zayn’s mother smacks him on the head and tells him to use his college education to do more than speak in riddles.  
But his father, the poet, the one who read to Zayn when he was a child, just smiles knowingly. He chides his scientific, military-trained wife. “Let Zayn say what he wants, _joonam _. The poet must remain untethered to everything And connected at the same time.”  
The way Zayn’s father says _joonam _makes his heart clench, and it brings Liam to the front of his mind like nothing else.  
_Joonam. _My everything.  
Zayn spends a lot of nights switching between tabs of Liam’s Instagram and the words he’s written since their parting.  
Like the lightning striking the airport, he’s waiting for a sign.  
One never comes. ______

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January 16

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The first day of the new semester dawns humid and cold, which creates a damp chill that seeps into Zayn’s bones. He rushes to his first class, Intro to Poetry, putting his things down in the desk furthest from the door.  
The room is small, about the size of a regular high school classroom, but Zayn is too focused on getting warm, and the poem taking shape on the edge of his mind, to notice the rest of the class.  
He pulls open his notebook and pen and starts to write feverishly, hoping to get at least a base down before class begins.  
At the corner of his eye, Zayn notices someone sit next to him.  
He keeps writing.  
Eventually, Zayn is aware that the person is watching him.  
He tries to ignore it, but it’s unlike anything he’s felt before, like his heart has stopped and started again.  
At the same time, something feels so familiar…  
And before he even consciously realizes it, Zayn is flicking his gaze up to the stranger’s.  
When he sees those deep brown eyes, that dimpled lip, that expression of pure happiness, Zayn cannot help but smile.  
He kind of knew all along.  
The poems were never about an ending.

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_Fuck entropy. _Liam thinks. I’ll make my own lightning strikes. ____

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End file.
